The Doomsday Potion
by Clare
Summary: Another of my Visionaries fics. Leoric faces a difficult dilemma after Feryl is exposed to a deadly potion.
1. The Doomsday Potion: Part One

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The Doomsday Potion: Part One

**

Heskedor was busy at her cauldron when she heard the intruders. Snarling furiously at being interupted at a crucial stage in the mixing of the potion she was making, she whipped round to see who it was. Her temper did not improve when she saw that one of the two knights standing in the entrance was Darkstorm, someone she had dealt with before and had hoped never to see again.

"What is it this time?" she demanded impatiently. "I'm in the middle of brewing something."

"I believe I've found a way to finish Leoric off once and for all," Darkstorm told her, crossing the room as he spoke. "But we'll need your help . . ."

Heskedor launched into her cackling laugh. "And why should _I_ help thee - especially after the way thee messed things up last time?" She had a long memory, Darkstorm noted. The last time he had been in Hesquidore's cave, she had given him a potion that would trap Leoric in his Totem form - permanently if the spell was not reversed by the time the Three Suns set. Unfortunately, the other Spectral Knights had found out and Leoric had been freed with only moments to spare . . .

Darkstorm, seeing that Reekon, the Darkling Lord he had "volunteered" to accompany him on this mission, was about to say something, glared at his mercenary follower and addressed the old enchantress himself. "Because Leoric is a do-gooder," he said conspiratorially. "And it would break his spirit if he had to . . . take the life of a fellow Spectral Knight."

"The Doomsday Potion?" Heskedor asked.

Darkstorm nodded. "I read about it in a tome on magical poisons," he told her. "It takes effect almost instantly, there's no known antidote and it causes such a painful death it's better to slay the victim outright. It fits in perfectly with my plans . . . All I want to know is do you have the recipe?"

"I have access to just about every potion on Prysmos . . ." Heskedor paused to scratch her pointed chin. "And who did you have in mind to use it on?"

"There's a young Spectral Knight named Feryl," Darkstorm explained, his sharp eyes fixed firmly on the old hag. "He is Leoric's closest friend out of all his followers. I have tried to get at Leoric through the whelp before, only to be thwarted. This time, however . . ."

Heskedor crossed over to her cauldron. "Very well - I shall brew the Doomsday Potion for ye," she said as she began adding a variety of unidentifiable ingredients. "But take heed, Darkstorm, there will only be one chance to pull this off."

"One chance is all I'll need." Darkstorm folded his arms as Reekon leaned casually against the wall of Heskedor's cave. Soon, he told himself, Leoric and Feryl would be finished and, with a bit of luck, the other five Spectral Knights would soon follow. The Doomsday Potion sounded almost too perfect . . .

* * *

Nearly a week later, Leoric, Galadria and Feryl were returning to New Valarak after a routine patrol when the hum of an engine overhead made all three of them look up. Directly above them, the Sky-Claw flew at low altitude, its guns pointed directly at them. Seated in the Capture Chariot's cockpit, Feryl narrowed his eyes and, keeping a one-handed grip on the steering helm, made ready to fire once the Darkling Lords were within range; any meeting between the two factions of the Visionaries almost invariably led to trouble.

"Leoric, Galadria, go look for the rest of them!" Feryl ordered. "I'll take care of things here!" With that, he moved the Capture Chariot to a position which would give him a clear shot at the Sky-Claw and watched as Leoric and Galadria took off in the hoverpods.

In the Sky-Claw, Darkstorm gripped the bottle of Doomsday Potion reverently and watched the three Spectral Knights, his mind focussed solely on the plan at hand. He saw Leoric and Galadria zoom into the sky, but that didn't concern him too much - without them to interfere, it would be all the easier to take care of Feryl. He smiled evilly. "Mortdredd, take us down!" he ordered.

"Immediately, Lord Darkstorm." Mortdredd did not hesitate to obey his master - indeed, there were those who joked that he would have jumped off a cliff if Darkstorm told him to - and began to take the Sky-Claw lower. Soon, they were within throwing range of the Capture Chariot. Moving slowly lest the sharp-eyed Feryl glance up and see what he was doing, Darkstorm uncorked the bottle he held in his hands and studied the Potion it held closely. With a consistency similar to that of water and an appearence that reminded him of fine wine, there was nothing to suggest how deadly it actually was. And, if what he had read was true, Feryl was as good as dead . . .

Moving swifter than the eye could see, he tipped the Doomsday Potion directly over the young Spectral Knight, who looked up with a start as the deadly substance splashed onto him. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but, just as Feryl reached up to brush whatever Darkstorm had thrown at him off, he was gripped by a sudden and searing pain. He winced and waited for it to pass, only to find that it didn't - if anything, it seemed to be growing steadily worse with every passing second.

His normally sharp senses clouded by pain, Feryl was only dimly aware that Darkstorm and Mortdredd were retreating. "No you don't!" he muttered as, his body rebelling against the very idea of movement, he tried to fire on the Sky-Claw. But, before he could do so, he suffered a spasm of pain so violent that he lost control of the Capture Chariot and the vehicle went careering into a nearby tree.

* * *

That was how Leoric and Galadria found him, slumped over the Capture Chariot's dashboard, the front of the vehicle jammed against the tree. It took only one glance for them to realise that something was seriously wrong - Feryl was breathing heavily and, when Leoric touched him to make sure he was all right, he cried out as if he had been seriously wounded. "Feryl?" Leoric asked, looking into his friend's stricken face. "Feryl, what is it?"

"I . . . don't know," Feryl replied, wincing as another pain shot through his body. "It just . . . hurts every time I move."

With some difficulty since Feryl flinched at the slightest movement, Leoric and Galadria managed to help their friend out of the Capture Chariot and sit him down on the ground. The three knights looked at each other helplessly, each of them wondering what had caused the symptoms Feryl was suffering, before Leoric took charge of the situation as best he could. Something had caused this - it was just a matter of finding out what.

"How long has this been happening?" he asked Feryl, trying despite his fears for the young knight to keep his emotions in check.

"Not long - it only started a few moments ago. Darkstorm . . ." Feryl paused as his body demanded relief from the ceaseless agony the Doomsday Potion was causing. "Darkstorm threw something at me, a potion . . ."

Leoric and Galadria exchanged uneasy glances. They knew from past experience that the sort of potions Darkstorm was likely to douse Spectral Knights with could be bad news to whoever was on the receiving end. It was only now that Leoric realised the other Darkling Lords had been conspicuous by their absence. "A ruse!" he muttered under his breath, his hands clasped tightly around his whip and Power Staff.

"What . . .?" Feryl asked. He could not recall seeing Leoric so angry before; the Spectral Knights' leader generally seemed more even-tempered than that. But now it was obvious something was seriously wrong and, even though Feryl had no way of knowing precisely what it was, instinct told him it had to do with the potion Darkstorm had thrown. "Leoric?" he ventured when a reply wasn't immediately forthcoming.

"A ruse!" Leoric said again without looking at Feryl. "They wanted to separate us so . . ." He paused and gazed at the horizon as he collected his thoughts. "So they could get to Feryl!"

"We'd better get him to Fletchen's village - it's the nearest settlement," Galadria said as she looked from Leoric to Feryl and back again. Fletchen was a young woman they had met a few months earlier when Darkstorm tried to trap Leoric in his Lion form. She and Leoric had fallen in love almost from their first meeting, their feelings deepening after he was finally freed, and she had some knowledge of herbal remedies. "If Fletchen's around, she might be able to help."

Leoric sighed heavily. "It's worth a try," he agreed as he turned to Feryl. "Can you walk for a while?" he asked the young knight. "I'll help you if you need it."

"I - I'll try," Feryl replied as, his body feeling as if it was on fire, he staggered to his feet. Seconds later, however, a spasm of pain gripped him and he sank down again, grabbing hold of Leoric for a combination of physical and emotional support. Tears of pain and humilation pricked his eyes - what was doing this to him? And how long would he be able to endure it?

Leoric helped Feryl back onto his feet. "Hang in there - it isn't far."

* * *

Fletchen was outside the small cottage she shared with her father, Gleering, when the three Spectral Knights appeared on the scene. One look was all it took to tell her that something was seriously wrong. Feryl, leaning heavily on Leoric, was moving as if every movement jarred his body and, even though Leoric and Galadria tried to hide their fear, there was no disguising the expressions on their faces. "What's wrong?" she asked as Leoric and Feryl drew level with her.

"I don't know," Leoric told her as Feryl fought the urge to cry out from the relentless pain. "We just tangled with the Darkling Lords and . . ." He paused as he collected his thoughts. "Anyway, he says Darkstorm threw a potion at him and it seems to be . . ."

Fletchen quickly sized up the situation. It was obvious that, whatever Darkstorm had thrown at Feryl was causing the young knight to suffer spasms of pain. If he did not get off his feet soon, he would surely collapse. "You'd better come inside," she said, cutting Leoric off in mid-sentence. "We'll try and figure this out there." With that, she turned and walked into the cottage, her heart pounding as she realised the enormity of what was happening. From what Leoric said, Feryl had been exposed to a potion that caused unrelenting pain, pain that would eventually . . .

She shook her head to banish the thought from her mind. At the very least, she could try to relieve the worst of the potion's effects and that might help Feryl hang on long enough for a more permanent solution to be found. She glanced at Leoric and Feryl, sighing deeply as she did so. She knew how close the two of them were, that, should the worst happen, there was no telling how long it would take for Leoric to recover. But there was no sense in dwelling on that; Feryl was still alive and she meant to keep him that way.

* * *

Hours later, however, Fletchen was whispering to Galadria and Gleering in hushed tones. Her father had returned from digging a well to the news that one of the Spectral Knights had been doused with a potentially lethal potion; he had watched Leoric and Feryl from a distance but had not dared disturb them. Right now, Feryl had fallen into a drug-induced slumber and Leoric was kneeling beside him, watching over his friend.

"This is bad," Fletchen was saying, keeping her voice low lest Leoric overhear. "Whatever that potion was, its effect seems to intensify with every passing minute . . ."

"Is there nothing you can do?" Galadria looked at her friend in desperation.

"The only thing I can do is keep him knocked out as much as possible. But . . ." Fletchen paused and sighed deeply, her brown eyes clouded with worry. "But it'll take stronger and stronger doses. And, if the sleeping draught gets too strong, he might never wake up again." A tear slowly traced its way down her cheek.

Galadria was about to say something, but, before she could do so, Feryl began to stir. Thrust into a wall of unimaginable pain, the young knight cried out and began to thrash wildly, a look of sheer terror etched on his face. Leoric instinctively reached out and tried to restrain his friend to keep him from hurting himself further, but it was as if Feryl was possessed by some evil force that . . . Leoric quickly realised he wasn't going to be able to hold Feryl down by himself. "Galadria! Fletchen! Get in here!" he shouted, not letting go of his friend for a moment.

Immediately, the two young women ran into the cottage to find themselves confronted with a scene neither of them would have wanted to witness in their worst nightmares. Feryl was thrashing about, his face covered with beads of sweat, a frantic expression etched in his eyes. It was almost as if he was trying to run away from the pain the Doomsday Potion was inflicting on him. But there was no escape except the sleeping draught Fletchen adminstered as Leoric and Galadria held the young knight still.

As Feryl stopped thrashing and relaxed, Fletchen turned to Leoric. Seeing the solemn expression on her face, he immediately knew it was bad news, but nothing could have prepared him for what she said next. "Leoric," she whispered, slipping her hand into his, "this is bad. I know you can't stand seeing a friend in pain, but I can't keep drugging him. I'm having to use stronger doses every time and, if the draught gets too strong . . ."

There was no need to complete the sentence. Leoric stared at her in disbelief; it was true he couldn't stand seeing Feryl like this, but she had just effectively said that, in trying to ease the young knight's pain, they might end up killing him. And taking an innocent life, especially that of a friend, went against everything Leoric believed in. Even so . . . Turning quickly before Galadria and Fletchen could see the tears which had welled up in his eyes, he made to leave.

"Leoric?" Galadria called after him. "Where are you going?"

"To consult my Power Staff," Leoric told her, hurriedly leaving before his emotions got the better of him.

* * *

Right now, Leoric wanted to be alone - completely alone. He headed far from the village, to the monoliths at the top of a hill. This place held certain memories to him; he had hidden here after Darkstorm trapped him in his Lion form and it was where he had managed to convey to Fletchen at least part of the truth about what had happened to him. Pausing by one of the stones, he traced the faint outlines of two names - his own and Fletchen's - scratched into the rock. Both were somewhat blocky and crude, in stark contrast to Leoric's usual handwriting. But, then again, a Lion's claws were never intended to be used as writing implements . . .

He slumped down in front of the stone and buried his head in his hands. He had scratched his own name on the rock while he was trapped in his Lion form and needed to let Fletchen know what had happened; her name had been added a few weeks later. This place had become somewhere he and Fletchen often went when they wanted some time alone together. The two of them had spent many hours sitting by this stone, reminiscing about their first meeting and, in Leoric's case, taking the time to forget the demands of leading the Spectral Knights for a while. Sometimes, on the rare occasions they could be sure no-one would disturb them, they would even make love.

But that was the last thing on his mind right now. All he could think of was the dreadful - he searched for the right word - mess Darkstorm had caused. It wasn't just the thought of Feryl's death that bothered him, although that in itself was hard enough to bear. No, it was the warning Fletchen had given that troubled him; they could not keep plying the young knight with sleeping draught every time the pain became unendurable for him. Sooner or later, either from the effects of the Potion or an overdose of sleeping draught, Feryl would . . .

Leoric shook his head as if dismissing even the mere thought of it. Maybe there was a way out of this . . . He reached for his Power Staff and recited the words which activated it:

"Whispered secrets of a shattered Age  
I summon you - renew this sage."

When the Owl of Wisdom emerged, Leoric explained the situation as fully as he could. "Owl of Wisdom, what should I do? I cannot let Feryl suffer like this, but I fear trying to ease his pain may kill him . . ." He paused and sighed deeply, waiting for the Owl's answer.

"That, Leoric," the Owl said, "is the one thing I cannot help you with - _you_ must make that decision. But ask yourself this - is there ever . . .?"

It got no further before Leoric, overwhelmed with despair and rage, flung the Staff away from him, causing the Owl to disappear in mid-sentence. Then, he sank back down, his vision blurring, and covered his face with his hands. It was not something he would normally have done, but the knowledge that, this time, the Owl of Wisdom could not help him was more than he could take.

* * *

Presently, Leoric heard Fletchen's voice calling his name and looked up to see her walking towards the monoliths, a solemn expression etched on her face. It was obvious that things had taken a turn for the worse back at the village, but what could have happened? Was Feryl already . . .? Leoric could not even bring himself to think the last word.

"Fletchen, what's wrong?" he asked, standing up and forcing himself to speak calmly. "What's going on?"

She drew level with him, her face still bearing the same expression. "Leoric, it's bad," she replied, her voice shaking. "I've done everything I can for Feryl, but it - it's just not enough!"

Leoric caught his breath, not wanting to believe it, even though he knew it was true. "Is there nothing more you can do?"

Fletchen shook her head slowly, wishing desperately that she could find a solution to all this. But nothing seemed to ease Feryl's symptoms except being kept constantly drugged and she knew how dangerous that could be. Both she and Leoric knew, although they were reluctant to admit it, that they were facing a situation that held little hope of a positive outcome. And, if anything happened to Feryl, there was no telling how it would affect Leoric; the close bond between the two knights was not something that could be severed easily.

"It would help if we knew what Darkstorm threw at him," she said at last. "But . . ." She sighed and took Leoric's hand in hers. "Leoric, he can't take this much longer and the drug is getting too strong. Another dose will kill him, but he - he'll die anyway without . . ." She got no further before she broke down in tears, her head resting against Leoric as he ran his hands through her hair.

Leoric was close to despair himself. He could not stand the thought of losing Feryl, especially not to the agonising death that now seemed to be his inevitable fate. But the alternative was to speed the young knight's end himself, something which went against everything Leoric stood for. No Spectral Knight should ever take an innocent life, but . . .

Leoric sighed and let go of the young woman. "Just . . . just give me time to talk to him," was all he said.

* * *

Feryl had not moved from where Leoric had left him. He couldn't move, not without suffering constant spasms of pain; even breathing was becoming a painful trial and he longed for something - anything - that would release him from this torture. He shuddered involuntarily as, for the first time, he realised there was a very real possibility that he might actually die because of what Darkstorm had done to him. Then, he closed his eyes and thought of his fellow Spectral Knights, hoping as he did so that his last thoughts would be of them . . . Lost in his thoughts, he was unaware that Leoric had entered the room.

"Feryl?" Leoric whispered, taking the young knight's hand in his. "Feryl, can you hear me?"

Feryl opened his eyes. "Leoric?" he whispered back. "How long have you been here?"

Leoric forced himself to look Feryl full in the face, even though it pained him to do so. The young knight was plainly in considerable pain, a expression consisting of a mixture of fear and despair etched on his face - had his condition really deteriorated so much in the short time Leoric had been at the monoliths? And did he know how serious this was? Feryl's next words told Leoric that he did.

"Leoric," he said, forcing himself to speak calmly, "there's nothing more you can do. Please, let me die - I've had enough of this . . ." At that moment, another spasm of pain shook him and he gripped hold of Leoric's hand, waiting for it to pass. "Don't grieve for me," he told Leoric. "Just think of how it used to be - before Darkstorm did this to me . . ."

"Good," Leoric said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Although, he didn't say it out loud, he was secretly relieved that Feryl had already seen that death might be preferable to enduring the agonies the Potion inflicted. It made this a little easier, meant there was less need for soul-searching. "I'll have Fletchen prepare more of that sleeping draught. The dose will be strong enough to keep you from ever waking up again . . ." He paused and brushed at his eyes. "I'll be with you the whole time"

"May the Light shine forever," Feryl said, smiling in spite of himself.


	2. The Doomsday Potion: Part Two

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The Doomsday Potion: Part Two

**

"Leoric, you can't!"

Leoric turned to see Galadria standing behind him, an expression of desperation etched on her face. As he looked into her eyes, he wondered how long she had been standing there, how much she had overheard of the conversation he and Feryl had just had. He sighed; the decision he had made was not something to be taken lightly, but it was the only thing anyone could do to help Feryl now. And Feryl himself had actually requested it in preference to the lingering, agonising death that surely awaited him otherwise. "Galadria, I don't like this any more than . . ." Leoric began.

"Can't you see what's happening here?" Galadria pleaded. "It's all been a trick"

"He's dying," Leoric whispered to her, nodding towards Feryl. The young knight seemed to have fallen into a restless sleep, but there was no telling how much he could hear. "There's nothing else we can do and . . ."

"I only just realised it, but Darkstorm planned this from the start. He knows you'd never forgive yourself if you took a life, Feryl's least of all." Her voice choked on a sob. "Please, Leoric! There has to be some other way! You've never given up before - why should now be any different? Think! There has to be something we haven't tried!"

Leoric looked her full in the face. "Believe me, Galadria," he told her. "I've thought about almost nothing else today, but it always comes to the same thing. Without knowing what was in that potion, we can't counteract it."

At this, Galadria smiled slightly. "You're right, Leoric," she said. "We don't know what that potion was . . . but the Bearer of Knowledge probably does." She turned to walk away. "You stay with Feryl - I'm going to fetch Arzon."

With that, she was gone. Leoric sat down beside Feryl, wondering as he did so why he hadn't thought of fetching Arzon himself. It was probably the stress of the situation, he reasoned; he had been so preoccupied with thoughts of losing Feryl that he had completely forgotten about Arzon's Power Staff. On many occassions in the past, the Bearer of Knowledge had provided the Spectral Knights with valuable information that often meant the difference between success and failure. So he more than likely had the information that could save Feryl's life . . .

For the first time since his friend was exposed to the potion, Leoric allowed himself a faint glimmer of hope.

* * *

Presently, Arzon arrived at Fletchen's village in his Eagle form, carrying Galadria in his talons. As soon as he had deposited her on the ground and changed back into his human form, the others explained the situation as fully as they could. On hearing the story of how Feryl had been doused with a potion that had such a devastating effect on its victims, Arzon frowned with concern, realising, as Galadria had done, that Darkstorm must have planned this. "So, you haven't been able to . . .?" he began to ask.

"No," replied Fletchen. "And that's what worries me. Feryl's alive at the moment, but I don't know how much longer he can hang on. And it will be hard for Leoric if . . ."

But Arzon cut her short. "Don't even think it!" he told her. "Just . . . let me consult my Power Staff." With that, he pulled out his Staff and recited the words which activated it:

"A whim, a thought and more is sought,  
Awake, my mind, thy will be wrought."

Within moments a humanoid figure emerged from the Staff and looked down at the small group of friends. This was the Bearer of Knowledge, a veritible fountain of information; ask him virtually any question on Prysmos and he was pretty much guaranteed to have the answer. And that was precisely what Arzon did now, asked him what potion Feryl had been exposed to.

The Bearer of Knowledge looked at Arzon, a serious expression on his face. "I fear Feryl has been doused with the Doomsday Potion," he stated as the humans gasped in horror. None of them had ever heard of this "Doomsday Potion", but they all knew it had to be dangerous and deadly; the name alone told them as much. "The Doomsday Potion," the Bearer of Knowledge continued, "is a lethal poison. On contact with a mortal body, it causes the victim to suffer convulsions of pain. This pain increases in severity until . . ."

"We know all that. What we want to know is what can we do to counter it?" Leoric cut in. The Bearer of Knowledge had been known to give somewhat lengthy explanations and there was no time for that right now.

The Bearer of Knowledge paused in contemplation. "The only thing that will work is the water from the Well of Life," he explained. "It lies due east from here, in the Forest of Hope. But it is guarded by the Eternal Guardians and they will not give its water away to just anyone." With that, he winked out of existence, his task of telling the group what they wanted to know done.

Gleering looked at everyone with a determined expression etched on his face. He knew how close Leoric and Fletchen had become and would do anything to help the Spectral Knights. "Guardians or no Guardians, we've got to try," he declared. "Fletchen, go fetch my travel pack."

But, instead of obeying her father, Fletchen shook her head. "No, Father," she said firmly. "It's too far on foot - and Feryl's in no condition to drive." She turned to Arzon. "It's up to you," she told him.

"I know what to do." Arzon smiled at her before transforming into his Eagle form and taking to the air.

* * *

As Arzon flew off on the mission that would, hopefully, save Feryl's life, Mortdredd lurked nearby in the shape of a Beetle and heard every word. Changing back to normal, he hurried off before anyone saw him and was reporting back to Darkstorm within minutes.

If anyone had been asked to state Darkstorm's biggest weakness, they would probably have said he was one of the worst megalomaniacs on Prysmos. As soon as he heard there was a chance Feryl could be saved, he flew into a towering rage and started ranting at his followers. He thought he had finally found a way of deposing Leoric (by tricking him into doing something he would never forgive himself for) but, like Leoric, had forgotten about Arzon's Power Staff. He should have known, should have realised the Spectral Knights were bound to find a way . . . "Blast that Bearer of Knowledge!" he snapped, brushing Mortdredd aside when he tried to calm him down. "Now those meddling Spectral Knights know the cure!"

"But, Master," Mortdredd interjected, his hand on Darkstorm's shoulder, "you said there was no antidote to . . ."

Darkstorm whipped round, his face resembling a thundercloud. Instinctively, the other Darkling Lords backed off, past experience having taught them that it was best to steer clear of their leader when he was in such a foul mood. "I said there was no _known_ antidote, you moron!" he raged. "We'll have to do something . . ."

"Something about what?" asked Cindarr, slow on the uptake as usual.

Darkstorm locked eyes with his slow-witted follower, wishing as he did so that there was a spell that could make Cindarr . . . Well, not smart; Darkstorm still remembered the time he tried to steal Merklynn's magic and planned to make Cindarr intelligent - until Merklynn's Orb showed the Darkling Lord questioning Darkstorm's policy on slavery. But he would settle for making him a little less dim-witted than he was. "Something about Feryl, you dunderhead!" He pulled out the bottle of Doomsday Potion and held it up for the Darkling Lords to see.

"This was left over after I doused him," he explained. "And a second dose is instantly fatal!"

At this, the Darkling Lords laughed evilly; finally, things were going their way.

* * *

Back at Gleering and Fletchen's cottage, everyone was grouped around Feryl, praying that he would survive long enough for Arzon to complete his mission. Leoric hardly dared to take his eyes off his friend, fearing that, if he did, Feryl would not make it. The young knight was still conscious, but, unable to move without suffering spasms of intense pain, he lay still, giving no signs of awareness save for an occassional glance in Leoric's direction. "Leoric?" he ventured at length.

Leoric placed his hand over Feryl's. "Don't try to talk."

Feryl ignored him. "Leoric," he repeated, "when is Arzon coming back?"

"I don't know," Leoric told him honestly, wishing all the while that he could give a more definite answer. "Just . . . just try to hang on until he arrives."

"I - I'll try. But I'm scared - what if . . .?" Feryl was cut off abruptly as the effort of talking caused him to pass out. Galadria, who was directly opposite Leoric, gasped.

"Is he . . .?"

Fearful of what he would find, Leoric quickly checked his friend over. "No, he's just fainted," he replied. Nonetheless, he couldn't help feeling a pang of fear; if Arzon didn't return soon, it would be too late. But he dismissed the idea almost immediately, reminding himself that, as long as Feryl stayed alive, there was still hope. It was ironic to think that, not long ago, he and the others had been on the verge of giving way to despair. At length, Fletchen approached Leoric and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Leoric, are you all right?" she whispered.

Leoric sighed and turned to look at her. "As well I can be under the circumstances," he said, glancing at Feryl.

"I understand." Fletchen's tone was sympathetic. "Leoric," she added, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you. You and Feryl seem real close - almost like brothers or something. Have you known him long?"

"Since he was eight . . ." Leoric paused, wondering if now was an appropriate time to go into detail about how he and Feryl had met. But he feared that, if he tried to talk about Feryl at length right now, he would only break down. Maybe the time would be right later . . .

In the end, however, Leoric had the decision taken out of his hands when the door to the cottage suddenly opened and Darkstorm strode in, swiftly followed by Cindarr. Darkstorm was holding a corked bottle in his hand and Leoric tensed at the sight of it. He had not seen the bottle that held the Doomsday Potion, but he knew instinctively that he had to get Darkstorm away from Feryl.

"Gleering, you and Fletchen run for it!" he yelled, leaping into action. "Galadria and I will try to hold them off!"

With that, he assumed his Lion form and charged headlong into the two Darkling Lords, knocking them off their feet. Then, keeping a wary distance from Darkstorm and the Doomsday Potion, he resumed his human form and grabbed a nearby chair, which he hurled at his enemies as Gleering and Fletchen made their escape. In the meantime, Galadria threw herself at Darkstorm and snatched the bottle of Doomsday Potion out of his hand before he could react.

"I'll take that, thank you!" she told him. With that, she uncorked the bottle and poured its deadly contents onto the ground outside the cottage. Slowly, the Doomsday Potion soaked into the soil, where it could never harm anyone. For, only if it was thrown directly at a living being did it have its devastating effect - and Darkstorm knew it, judging by the furious expression on his face.

"Stop that, you stupid bitch!" he yelled, making a mad grab for the young woman.

But Galadria only grinned at him. "Too late, Darkstorm!" She tipped the bottle upside down to show that it was now completely empty.

At this, Darkstorm's temper snapped completely. The Doomsday Potion was gone and Hesquidor had told him there was only one chance to pull this scheme off, one chance to make Leoric and Feryl suffer as they had never suffered before. All he could think of was making Galadria pay, but how to go about it? Should he use his Power Staff to turn her into an aged crone? Or should he . . .? He shot a sideways glance at Cindarr, who was leaning against the wall, as a plan for burying the three Spectral Knights entered his twisted mind.

"The Beast!" he whispered conspiratorially.

Slow-witted as he was, Cindarr knew exactly what was required of him and, before either Leoric or Galadria could stop him, he had drawn his Power Staff and was shouting the words which activated it:

"By nature's hand, by craft, by art,  
What once was one - now fly apart!"

In an instant a huge creature resembling a bipedal dog emerged from the Staff and began bashing at the walls of the small cottage, bent on creating as much devastation as it could in the short time it had before it winked out of existence. As he ducked to avoid the Beast's flailing arms, Leoric realised they were in serious trouble; the cottage was about to collapse around them. They had to get out fast, before it was too late.

"But what about Feryl?" asked Galadria, knowing that, even if the young knight had been awake, he couldn't possibly run in his current condition.

Leoric replied by kneeling at Feryl's side and hoisting his motionless form across his shoulders. "We'll take him with us," he said. "I just hope we're not too late . . ."

As Galadria and Leoric (the latter with his friend passed out over his shoulder) ran from the cottage, the Beast of Destruction winked out of existence. But it had already caused considerable structural damage and, even as the three knights got clear, the building collapsed into a heap of rubble . . .

* * *

Arzon's flight to the Forest of Hope proved uneventful. As he landed and changed back into his human form, he hoped he would be able to complete this mission in time. From what the Bearer of Knowledge had said, he knew facing the Eternal Guardians was not going to be easy. But he had to try. He had to persuade them to give up some of the water they guarded; it was the only hope of saving Feryl . . . Arzon paused, thinking of the young knight. Feryl had always been loyal to the Spectral Knights in spite of his slightly impulsive nature and would not desert the others in a time of trouble. Even his brief split from the team had been motivated by a feeling that he was letting the others down, that he was . . .

Arzon shook his head. This was no time to be thinking. "Feryl," he whispered as if the young knight was there with him, "I won't let you down."

With that, he stepped into the forest, keeping a tight grip on his weapon and ever alert for the slightest sound. The trees crowded together thickly, sometimes so thickly that all light was blocked and the forest was plunged into a eerie dimness. Arzon, if he was honest with himself, much prefered the vast open plains, since they seemed to fit his Eagle Totem. But this was something he had to do and, as he made his way along the only visible path, he kept his weapon drawn ready to fend off any wild animals that might cause problems. But he would not kill anything unless he had no other choice; that was not in his nature.

At length, he found what he was looking for, an old well with ancient symbols carved on its sides. Those symbols obviously meant something, but he would have to try and work out what it was later. Right now, he had a job to do, a job that was too important for him to waste time interpreting carvings. He began to search the area around the Well of Life for something that might serve as a water-carrier.

Finding nothing, he walked over to the Well and peered down into its murky depths. Why hadn't he thought to take a water-carrier with him when he left Fletchen's village? At the bottom of that Well lay the one thing that could save his friend, but he had no means of getting to it and his Power Staff's magic was spent so the Bearer of Knowledge couldn't help him now. Normally the sort of person who looked on the bright side no matter what, he leaned against the Well and sighed deeply, cursing himself for his oversight.

Suddenly, three shadowy figures drifted out of the depths of the Well and lined up in front of Arzon. "We are the Eternal Guardians," they said in unison, their voices ethereal but powerful at the same time. "We guard the Well of Life against those foolish enough to drink its water."

Arzon sized them up. It was hard to tell if they were solid or not. They resembled shadows, but it never paid to judge by appearances in this Age of Magic. He drew his weapon and slashed at the nearest Guardian. It dodged out of the way and began to glow red . . .

The next thing Arzon knew, he was being levitated into the air, his body surrounded by a red glow. Instinctively, he tried to assume his Eagle form in order to fly away, but nothing happened; his chest plate didn't even start to glow. This was not going well; the Guardians had the upper hand and were determined not to let this intruder get away with stealing the water they guarded. "You want our water?" they asked, with mocking laughter. Arzon suddenly felt himself being carried through the air before coming to a halt directly over the Well. "You got our water!" the Guardians taunted. "Enough to drown in!"

Arzon knew at once that they meant business and, unable to use his Totem, he had no means of escaping. But it had to be a bluff, he reasoned; why would they tried to drown someone in water that had healing properties? Didn't they know the water's magic would prevent even the weakest swimmer from drowning in it?

* * *

He decided to wait and see. If he did drown, so be it - at least he would have tried to save Feryl. But that other side of his nature, that side that nearly always refused to give up no matter how insurmountable the odds seemed, told him otherwise. Things were going to be all right. He was going to get the water and Feryl would be . . . Arzon's thoughts were cut off abruptly as the Guardians released their magical hold on him and he went plunging down the Well's deep shaft.

He landed in the water with a splash and quickly took stock of his surroundings. Light filtered in through the Well's round opening, but it only penetrated so far and much of the Well was in shadow. Even so, Arzon could still make out a few things, in particular the fact that the walls were perfectly smooth. They looked wet and slippery as well, almost impossible to climb. But that didn't bother him too much; he could fly out in his Eagle form. First, though, he had a job to do . . .

"Sure wish Galadria was here," he thought as he inhaled deeply and dived under the water.

At the bottom of the Well of Life lay an assortment of items, mostly pebbles with intricate patterns and a large pile of gold and jewels. Arzon smiled at the sight of the latter, imagining the look that would be on Reekon's face if he could see this treasure; the Darkling Lord was obsessed with money and treasure. But Arzon had more important things to do than salvage treasure, so he ignored the jewels and concentrated on the more mundane items.

Presently, he saw a leather water-carrier, its neck stoppered with a piece of cork. But, by now, he had been under the water for some time; his lungs felt as if they were about to burst and he was getting decidedly light-headed. Was he too light-headed to swim the short distance to where the water-carrier lay? There was only one way to find out . . .

But, before Arzon could move, the water-carrier suddenly floated towards him and knocked him back when it collided with him. Then, he felt himself floating upwards even though he had not made any attempt to swim to the surface and, the next thing he knew, he was being lifted into the air, his body surrounded by the same red glow. Down below, the Eternal Guardians were watching him silently. "Congratulations, young mortal," one of them said. "You have passed our Test."

Arzon was confused. "What test? What do you mean?"

"The Test of Courage and Honour. You not only willingly faced death, you also ignored the temptation of treasure and focused on what you truly needed. You have truly earned the right to claim some of the Well's water."

Realising the water-carrier he was holding felt slightly heavier than it had moments before, Arzon pulled the cork out and peered inside, finding it filled to the brim with cool, clear water.

* * *

The three Spectral Knights had caught up with Gleering and Fletchen just outside the village, in a gully where Leoric had hidden while trapped in his Lion form. Right now, the five of them were all waiting anxiously for signs of Arzon, hoping as they did so that he would not be too late. Feryl, who had woken up shortly after they reached the area, was quieter now and did not cry out so constantly. But he was very weak and Leoric knew that the Doomsday Potion was still causing spasms of pain, pain that few on Prysmos could imagine. Faint moans escaped from the young knights mouth as he fought desperately to stay alive. But it was an unequal battle; the pain was growing ever stronger, ever more insistant, and Feryl longed for relief.

Leoric had never felt so helpless in his life. He supported Feryl from behind, holding him in a sitting position in a bid to ease his breathing. But every breath the young knight took required considerable effort and caused him to wince. And, although Leoric urged Feryl to hang on, he was only too aware of the grim reality. "He can't take much more," he whispered to Gleering and Fletchen.

"I'm sorry, Leoric," Glearing said. "It's hard to lose a friend . . ." He sighed and stared at the darkening sky with his one good eye. The second of the Three Suns was setting, marking the end of a day filled with emotional turmoil, casting long shadows over the small group. Those shadows seemed to represent the impending danger to Feryl's life, the dark void which he hovered on the verge of . . .

"Darkling Lords!" Galadria shouted suddenly, startling Gleering out of his thoughts. At the sound of her voice, he, Leoric and Fletchen looked up to see Cravex and Mortdredd flying overhead in the Sky-Claw. Forgetting Feryl for the moment, Leoric stood up and held his whip ready to fight the two Darkling Lords. But, instead of attacking, Mortdredd moved the Sky-Claw in closer and prepared to gloat at them.

"We've nailed you this time, Leoric!" he called, convinced Darkstorm would reward him handsomely for this. But he spoke too soon. Seconds later, Arzon appeared in his Eagle form, a leather water-bag clasped in his talons. He had been returning from the Well of Life when he saw the Darkling Lords and, instinctively knowing they meant trouble, elected to follow them. Dropping the bag into Galadria's hands, he flew directly at Mortdredd and began to attack him with beak and talons.

"Blasted bird!" Mortdredd cursed, trying to beat Arzon back. "Cravex!"

Cravex did not need telling twice. As soon as Mortdredd spoke, he was holding his Power Staff and reciting the words which activated it:

"Oh mist filled pits, dark, dank, unclear,  
Touch all before me with frost-fingered fear!"

And a great Spider scuttled across the Sky-Claw, over to Arzon. This was the deadly Spider of Fear; its sole purpose was to bite the nearest being and cause them to imagine that their worst fears were coming true. Leoric had seen its effects many times, had himself been targetted by it in the past, and was not about to see Arzon's name added to its list of victims. "Arzon! Look out!" he shouted, assuming his Lion form and leaping onto the Sky-Claw, directly in the Spider's path . . .

* * *

The next thing Leoric knew, he was on the ground in his human form, his head surprisingly clear considering he had just been attacked by the Spider of Fear. Then, as he glanced round to check that his friends were safe, he saw something that made him catch his breath. Feryl was lying lifeless on the ground, his head slightly turned towards Leoric, his blue eyes blank and unseeing. "No," Leoric thought as he ran towards his friend. But it took only a few moments for him to confirm his worst fears. Feryl was dead; Arzon's efforts had been in vain . . .

The combined effects of grief and having just been bitten by the Spider of Fear caused Leoric to lose it completely. His voice choking with emotion, he shook Feryl by the shoulders, calling his name and pleading with him to come back. "Why?" he thought to himself as he cradled his friend's body, tears of anguish pricking at his eyes. "Why did this have to happen to Feryl of all people?" Then, the sound of footsteps behind him caused him to look round.

Darkstorm was standing there and Leoric's eyes narrowed at the sight of his enemy. This was the one who had thrown the Potion that had killed Feryl; had it not been for him, the young knight would still be alive. An overwhelming rage engulfed Leoric as his mind lost track of everything except one thing - make Darkstorm pay. All thoughts of honour and nobility, of not attacking wantonly, left him; avenging Feryl was the only thing that mattered. He leapt at Darkstorm, pinned him to the ground and began to press down hard on his enemy's throat.

"Leoric!" Darkstorm's voice was choked as a result of the pressure being put on his throat.

But Leoric did not let up for a second. "Swine!" he cursed as he continued to press down. "Do you see what you have done?! A young knight is dead because of you!"

"Leoric . . . please! Listen . . . to me! I'm Feryl!"

"Nice try, Darkstorm," Leoric said grimly. He pressed down again, his Spider-of-Fear addled mind focused solely on throttling his enemy. "Feryl's dead - and you know it!"

"No! The . . . Spider . . . of Fear . . . bit you - you're hallucinating!"

Seconds later, a sudden jolt caused Leoric to let go of his enemy. At the same instant, the effect of the Spider's bite wore off and he looked around to see Feryl sitting on the ground where Darkstorm had been only moments before. The young knight was holding his dagger; he had used its magical energy to force Leoric off him. Then, as Feryl staggered to his feet, Leoric realised to his horror that he had come perilously close to making a terrible mistake.

"Feryl," he said, looking straight at the young knight, "I - I'm sorry. I . . ."

But Feryl cut him short. "Leoric, there's nothing to apologise for. It was Cravex's Power of Fear - your senses were distorted. You couldn't have resisted it . . ."

"But I - I nearly killed you," Leoric objected, shaking his head as he spoke.

"Remember what Arzon said once about "nearly" not counting?" asked Feryl. "Now, not another word."

* * *

Bit by bit, the others filled Leoric in on what had happened.

After Arzon threw the bag containing the water from the Well of Life to Galadria, she had immediately hurried over to Feryl and poured it over him. Its magical healing properties had taken effect instantly and Feryl was soon completely free from the Doomsday Potion's deadly effects. "Although," Galadria added in an undertone, "another few minutes and . . ."

But Leoric, now standing side-by-side with Feryl cut her short. "That doesn't matter now. The important thing is that no lasting harm was done."

Gleering was the next to speak. "Leoric," he said, "I hope you don't feel we're imposing on you, but Fletchen and I were . . . Well, we were hoping we could stay in New Valarak. At least until our cottage is repaired . . ." He trailed off briefly.

"No need to ask, Gleering," Leoric cut in. "Any friend of the Spectral Knights is always welcome."


End file.
